The Interiority of a Love Affair
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Compliant with the events of Maisy Molesley; the evening of a wedding night.


**This is just something little and very bad I wrote because I haven't written in ages (I've been really busy) and I wanted to do something. Hope you like it. **

**The Interiority of a Love Affair**

Like always, they are very quiet. But it is still light, or the light is only just fading. Usually, they are only together like this in the dark. But today was their day off, and now it's evening and for once they have dared to absent themselves from supper as well.

"What do you think they'll say?" she asks him.

Of course, no one knows they're in here, or where they've been today. Her legs are between his, and they lie close to one another in her single bed.

"About what?" he asks her in reply, "The fact that you're pregnant or that we got married today?"

A little smile stretches across her mouth at the words.

"Both, I suppose," she answers quietly.

"I don't know," he admits softly to her.

He sees a look of worry flicker across her face, reaching his hand out and cupping her cheek, gently stroking over her skin with the pad of his thumb.

"It will be alright," he tells her, "I'm sure it will be alright. They were alright about it when Mr and Mrs Carson said they were getting married. They gave them a cottage."

"That was a bit different," she reminds him, the worried look still lingering.

"Well, even if they think it is," he tells her, "We don't need a cottage, do we? I'd be happy with a room, where I was able to sleep with you."

"We'll need somewhere for the little one to sleep," she reminds him softly, smiling at him, "I can't imagine anyone else will be too happy about having to sleep in the same corridor as a newborn."

He lets out a quiet sigh.

"Perhaps you're right," he tells her.

She rests her had softly against his chest, stroking his skin gently in consolation.

"I used to imagine it, you know," he told her, "Somehow having a room where I could live with you. A room that was ours. I used to fantasise about it."

"Did you?" she asks softly.

He nods.

"Yes," he replies, "Just a little room, with a bed big enough for two, and wardrobe where I could hang my clothes up next to yours. I would have liked that very much."

"Don't talk about it as if it won't happen," she tells him softly, her hand still smoothing patterns along the bottom of his neck, "Anything could happen tomorrow when we tell them."

His eyes closed.

"I know," he murmurs softly.

She can imagine it too. The room he had fantasised about for them. A big double bed, with soft, heavy blankets and wrought iron frame, a dark wooden wardrobe in the corner. A low ceiling, probably, but big, light windows and pale painted walls. A chair by her side of the bed with her mending on it, and a little table by his for his books. She knows he would make it their home, he is so good at that, in his quiet, protective way, and it pains her intensely that she might have jeopardised it for him.

"Oh, Joseph," she tells him, "I'm so sorry, my darling."

He looks at her.

"What on earth for?"

"I should have been more careful."

"Maybe we both should have been," he replies gently, "But then you wouldn't be carrying my child. And that makes me happier than anything else ever could," he kisses her forehead, her hair, "I love you so much," he whispers, "I never thought this would happen."

She smiles wryly against his neck.

"Which part?" she asks.

"Any of this," he replies, "That anyone like you could ever want anything to do with me. Let alone love me, or marry me. Or let me give you children."

"Oh Joseph, Joseph, my darling," she is whispering kisses in reply to his, stroking his chest softly with her hands, "Joseph, my love, I never thought anything like this would ever happen either. That I would get another chance at all, let alone with someone as wonderful as you."

His hands encircle her body, softly caressing her back. She gives a soft moan as his fingers stroke her again.

"i love you," she whispers, "I love you so much."

He kisses her mouth.

"I love you too," he replies, "I can't believe you're my wife."

"Well I am," she tells him, hooking her leg possessively around his waist, drawing herself closer to him, "I most certainly am."

**End.**

**Please review if you have the time.**


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